The First Hunt (1)
by Blue KAZ
Summary: During Dean's time away from Sam in S5, he has an adventure with the Eighth Doctor. Meanwhile, in Stanford, Sam spends a year abroad in England studying law and he encounters the Eleventh Doctor.
1. Chapter 1

The First Hunt

Summary: During Dean's time away from Sam in S5, he has an adventure with the Eighth Doctor. Meanwhile, in Stanford, Sam spends a year abroad in England studying law and he encounters the Eleventh Doctor.

XXX

Shelly, Iowa...2009:

 _I wanna be anarchy! And I wanna be an antichrist!_

"Shut up," Dean muttered as he angrily turned the radio off. Last thing he wanted was to hear anything about Satan or Antichrist or-

"Dean."

"Shit!" Dean shouted, swerving around as he regained control.

"There's no need to curse," Castiel muttered, completely still and calm even as the car bucked.

"There's no need for you to I-Dream-of-Genie yourself right next to me," Dean muttered, glaring out the side of his eyes at him, "Dick."

"My name's not-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Dean interrupted him, "How's the whole God hunt going?"

"Slowly," Cass sighed, "This Earth is massive, Dean. I always knew, but I never fully realized until I started this search. And what of you?"

"Picked up a case," Dean said, "Might be a witch. Check it out."

Dean passed Castiel a paper, "Local woman petrified."

"Darla Gibbons was found in her room with the door locked a week ago," Dean picked up, knowing the case back to front, "She was stone, they thought it was a statue at first, but there was still some skin left on her feet."

"Witchcraft is a likely answer," Castiel agreed, "Would you appreciate my assistance?"

"Nah, I got it," Dean said, "Bobby's coming out to meet me tomorrow, I'm heading over to talk to the coroner before I check out the house after dark."

Castiel paused for a moment before saying, "I could find the hex bag in her house if you'd like."

Dean looked over at him for a moment. He looked like a lost puppy dog in need of a bone. He considered his angelic friend, figuring that he was lost and a little drained from his God-hunt and needed a break from it. He could relate.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Dean said, "Just find me at the coroner's office when you're done."

"Of course, happy to help," Castiel said, looking for all the world like he'd just won the lottery before fluttering off.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle.

XXX

North End, Croydon, London...2002

Sam brought his coat in as close to his body as he could. It was windy and snowing, hard enough to make him squint to see as he walked down the North End. Or, at least, hard enough for him, as he could see that many native English were just fine. He'd clearly spent too much time in the Midwest and in California if this was enough to get to him.

He sighed in relief as he walked into the coffee shop, where it was warm. He ordered a salad and coffee, though he'd thought about the tea. Try as he might, he couldn't get a taste for it. His preference definitely stayed with coffee.

He had another two weeks left on his trip before he would be heading back to California. He'd been lucky enough to get accepted into the study abroad program, especially since he was only a sophomore, and had done very well. He'd liked England well enough, and was grateful for the experience, but he was also pretty eager to get back to America. He'd clashed with his dorm mates and had been staying in a hostel, which wasn't bad, but it reminded him too much of being on the road with his Dad and brother. He missed his house in Cali and his friends.

He pulled out _A Christmas Carol_ and began to read. It was only a few days till New Years, and Christmas was long over, but this Christmas had been pretty tough on him. Being away from home, away from his family and completely friendless had taken its toll on him. He hadn't gotten a phone call from his brother this Christmas, which didn't surprise him as much as it should have. Their last phone call had been on his birthday, and that had lead to them rehashing his fight with his Dad a little over a year ago.

He didn't like Christmas all that much, but he didn't want to spend it alone either.

He looked up from his book for a moment and saw a stone angel across the street. He smiled a bit. Dean had always told him that their Mom had said that angels were watching over them. He closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for his family. Regardless of their issues, he loved his Dad and Dean, and wanted them to be well.

He opened his eyes again and the statue wasn't there.


	2. Chapter 2

2009

The coroner was a large man with a beard and wild, Einsteiny hair. He greeted Dean with a hearty handshake, stating "Maybe you can make sense of this, son, cause this is driving me batshit."

"How do you mean?" Dean asked, curious and a little excited by the prospect.

"Son, Darla Gibbons is petrified," the coroner said, turning away to lead him down the hall, "Almost completely. As of 11:32 this morning, all but her right heel was stone. As of twelve minutes ago, her right ankle down is flesh."

Dean had to admit, he was more than a little thrown by that.

"Come again?"

The coroner walked him into the back where the tables were. Darla Gibbons was laid on a table, a 40-something year old woman dressed in a set of jeans and a t-shirt, her body rendered into a statue of terror as she backed away from some unseen evil. That statue, however, had a foot of pink skin where stone should have been, and to both their amazement, it was wiggling its toes.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered.

"You're telling me," the coroner agreed, "Agent Rose, I hope to hell the CDC has a clue, cause I'm stumped."

"The Center for Disease Control will be lost as well," the two men jumped slightly as a voice spoke behind them.

"Shit, Cass," Dean muttered.

"Who the Hell are you?!" the coroner demanded, "How'd you get past Howard?!"

"Relax, this is my partner," Dean interrupted, "Agent, um, agent Halen."

"Van Halen, right," the coroner guessed sarcastically, "Look, this has me beyond freaked, y'all do what you wanna do, I'mma go find some whiskey, might even steal a truck of it."

Dean nodded in agreement, thinking it was a great idea at the moment. As soon as he was gone, he turned to look at Castiel.

"Did you find it?"

Castiel sighed and said, "Yes."

"Great, so we got a witch on our hands," Dean sighed with relief, "Just gotta find Glinda and ice the bitch."

"That might be more complicated than you anticipate, Dean," Castiel said, "Look."

Castiel presented him with the hex bag. He instantly recognized the Enochian writing on the leather bag, and as he opened it, he saw what could only be an angel feather. There were hunks of metal, several dipped in blood, bone and a strange stone that he'd never seen before.

"An angel feather," Castiel barely spoke louder than a whisper, "An angel's blade. The stone of a Wretch. The bone...I'm not sure where it's from."

"That's a first," Dean muttered, looking up at him, "A Wretch, as in a Weeping Angel?"

"One of them is involved in this spell," Castiel muttered, "Somehow."

"They petrified her, and now she's turning back to normal," Dean concluded, but at Cass's look, he finished "Orrrrr not?"

"Not," Castiel agreed, "She is becoming a Wretch."

Dean blinked.

XXX

2002

Sam ran out into the cold, alarmed and confused as he searched for the angel.

"This is nuts," he muttered to himself, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, "I know I saw it."

"That's because you did see it," he turned to the left and saw a beautiful woman with large, golden hair dressed in some expensive clothes staring at him with a smile.

"I did," Sam agreed, thinking to himself _I really don't like that smile._

"And how could you see something one moment," the English woman walked up to him, still smiling that smile that screamed 'I know something you don't', "And it be gone the next?"

"I dunno," Sam said, "You tell me?"

"Because," a new voice called behind him, a man's voice, and he turned.

He was tall, lanky and had a chin that could poke an eye out. He was dressed in expensive clothes as well, a waste coat and a bow tie with a fob watch for decoration. These two were clearly together, but where the woman smiled, this man looked simply enraged. It was a quiet sort of anger, bubbling just beneath the surface; the kind he was more than vaguely familiar with.

"The moment you closed your eyes," he stared straight into him, "It moved. Now, Sam Winchester, how could it possibly do that?"

Sam backed up a bit, frightened of this man that somehow knew his name.

"It's supernatural," he found himself saying, against his better instincts, "Who are you? How do you know me?"

"A question for another day, Sam," the man clapped his hands together and pointed at him, "Right now, _you_ need to return to your coffee and forget you ever met me."

"Doctor," Sam turned around and saw that the woman was holding a device, "Spike in temporal energy, the angel just fed."

"Right then, Professor, we need to go," The Doctor said in a whirlwind of motion, quickly walking away from Sam to stand next to his companion, "Sam Winchester, on no account follow us as we pursue these nefarious creatures. Instead, go on and have your lovely coffee. I'm serious," he pointed at Sam, "Don't...follow...us."

The couple turned and strode purposefully away from him. Sam stared after them for a moment and, almost without thinking about it, he started to walk after them. As soon as he started, though, he stopped and asked himself why it mattered. So they knew his name. They'd called themselves 'Doctor' and 'Professor,' clearly they were with the university and remembered him from one of the classes he'd taken. So what if they were doing some Ghostbuster thing, it had nothing to do with him.

"Nothing to do with me," he told himself.

He decided, unlike his father or brother, that he would follow that Doctor's advice and went back inside to read his book and enjoy his coffee.

XXX

"Doctor," River Song spoke as they watched Sam reading, "We can't do this to Sam, we simply can't."

"Sam would volunteer for this," The Doctor muttered, half paying attention.

"He would if he knew what the Weeping Angels are," River said, "We're too early in his personal time stream, Doctor, he has no idea who either of us are."

"So," The Doctor demanded, "This angel is stalking him, River. It must want him or need him for something."

"Perhaps it's carrying out Lucifer's orders," River suggested, "It may not be from later on, it may not know how it ends."

"That's a possibility, a great possibility," The Doctor said, "Hence the waiting."

"Doctor," River turned to face her husband, staring directly into his eyes, "You cannot do this, he is our friend. You can't use him as bait."

"That angel is the last of them, River," The Doctor said, barely containing his anger, "The last of that vile group that took Rory and Amy from me, from _us_ , and it is stalking Sam Winchester, for whatever reason, and you just want me to _let it go_. No, River, no. Sam loved Amy and Rory, and he will love them, and he will love you, and when I finally tell him what happened to her, I will _not_ tell him that I let them live. Not ever again, River, my mercy will not get others killed!"

River couldn't help but shake as The Doctor spoke to her. He was not her husband, her Doctor, at that moment. This was the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness. This was the man who had fought in the Last Great Time War, and he would leave no survivors.


	3. Chapter 3

2009

"A Weeping Angel?" Dean asked, more than a little confused.

Castiel was walking ahead of him, eyes focused as he marched toward the car.

"When our Father cast out Lucifer, He was left with the angels who were loyal to Lucifer, most of whom he imprisoned in Heaven. Then there were those who did nothing, who stayed on the sidelines. They were content to be frozen and to wait. So that is what God chose for them as their punishment: to wait, forever, frozen in time. Over the years, many have simply stopped being angels, or forgotten that they ever were. But now that Lucifer has been freed, some will side with him, while others will oppose him. If the Wretches are creating vessels for themselves so that they can walk freely without being frozen, then they are preparing for something."

"Like what?" Dean asked, "You think they're going to fight for Lucifer?"

"Lucifer would welcome the help," Castiel agreed, pushing the doors open and heading directly for the Impala, "We have to find the witch immediately, they're helping the Wretch obtain a vessel and must be stopped before the process is complete."

"What about Darla Gibbons?" Dean asked as they slid into the car.

"We may be able to save her," Castiel said, "I know nothing of the process, though. If the Wretch hasn't fully taken her over, it might be possible to recover her."

Dean sighed and said, "We might need some help."

"Perhaps," Castiel agreed, "I know nothing of this magic and nothing at all about what the Wretches have been doing since being cast out of Heaven."

"Great," Dean said, pulling out his phone, "I always love visits from The Doctor."

XXX

Somewhere in time and space...

The man ran into the room, slamming the double doors behind him as a laser blast impacted on it. He leaped over an ottoman to reach the center console and began furiously pushing buttons and flipping switches. An odd wheezing sound filled the large room and it vibrated, shaking the bookshelves and tables visibly, before settling down into a steady hum.

Only then did the man dressed in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket with a satchel across his chest let out a breath.

"Right then," he said to himself, patting the console affectionately, "The minister's safe, all's well on Traxelon 4, and maybe now I can finally have that tea."

He quickly she his jacket and settled into a comfortable chair, lifting his feet up onto an ottoman and poured himself a glass of tea. It was stone cold, however, but this gave the man pause for only a moment as he reached into his pants and withdrew a strange looking metallic device and pointed it at the tea. A whirring sound escaped it and the tea quickly vibrated and settled as steam began to float up from the cup.

Sufficiently pleased, The Doctor reached across the 19th century phone on his table for his book. Before he could quite make it, though, the phone began to ring.

He settled his hand over the phone, clearly tempted to not answer it. In the end, however, he picked up the phone and brought it to his lips.

"Hello, you've reached the offices of Doctor John Smith," he spoke into the phone with a small smile on his lips, "Please leave a-"

"Yeah, I've heard that one before Doc," a rough, American voice interrupted him, "Listen, I've got a problem with the Weeping Angels, need an expert."

"Well, I hardly think I'm an expert," The Doctor smiled a bit more, "Uh, who exactly is this?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Doc, I've know you since I was 27," the American responded, "This is Dean Winchester."

"Well, Dean Winchester," The Doctor replied, "There's absolutely no reason for such language."

"Every time," Dean complained, "Look, just make your way over to Shelly, Iowa, 2009. Bring some of those Jammy Dodgers, I like those."

"I'm afraid you might have me mistaken for a future regeneration," The Doctor tried to explain to this rude American.

"Seriously, can't you ever do anything in the right order," Dean complained, again, "Alright, look, a witch has done a spell that's turning an ordinary woman into a vessel for a Weeping Angel. Dunno why, but considering that Cass is a bit stumped as to how, we figure we might need someone who knows about them."

NOW The Doctor was curious. He'd met the Weeping Angels, of course, was not a fan at all, but to learn that they were somehow using technology that this man had mistaken for witchcraft to obtain human hosts...it was just the sort of thing that attracted his interest.

"Shelly, Iowa, 2009, Dean Winchester," The Doctor confirmed, "Be there in a flash."

He put the phone down and sprinted over to the console, his tea forgotten.

XXX

2009

Dean and Castiel were sat upon the hood of the Impala outside the house of Darla Gibbons, watching the street as they waited for The Doctor.

"Think he'll be on time this time?" Dean inquired, loosening his tie as he sipped his beer.

"It's The Doctor, who can say," Castiel said, sipping on his own beer, "Dean...he didn't know who you were?"

"Nope," Dean sighed, "Guess this is the first time we actually meet. Means I gotta watch what I say around him, right?"

"Yes, that's what it means," Castiel agreed, "Nothing about demons or angels, and especially not the war."

Dean turned his full attention over to Castiel, "Cass...you think this is before the Time War? For him, I mean."

"It's a possibility," Castiel said, "Think back to when you first met him. He knew who you were."

"Him and Rose," Dean agreed, smiling a bit, "Man, she was hot."

Castiel just looked at him.

"Anyway," Dean kept going, "Yeah, they both knew me and Sam, that was after the Time War. From what he's mentioned, it wasn't too long after. Even later on when Rose met me the first time, he knew me."

"The Doctor has had many incarnations," Castiel said, "I've only met one of them, you've met two. Now we're about to meet your third, but his first."

Dean sighed and said, "Time travel, fuck."

The two settled into a companionable silence for moment, but it was interrupted when Cass shifted a bit to look over at Dean.

"No," Dean stated, decisively, "I do not want to talk about Sam, and I swear to God, if you even think his name I will break this bottle across your face. And yes, I realize that won't hurt you, but I'll still do it, so shut up."

Castiel looked at him for a moment before sighing and shifting back to the front, bringing the bottle up to his mouth to take a long gulp. The two now drank in an uncomfortable silence, before finally the ringing of Dean's phone shook them out of it.

Dean checked out the caller ID and said, "It's the Doc," he opened the phone, "Yo, Doc Brown, what's your 20?"

"Oh, that's clever," The Doctor replied sarcastically, though Dean could tell he was amused by it, "I've just landed. Where are you?"

"Outside Darla Gibbon's house," Dean answered, "Where're you?"

"Ummm, at the corner of Main and Fuller."

Dean counted to five, "That's all the way across town, Doc. Ok, look, what year is it?"

"...2009," came the surprised response, "My word, I actually made it to the right time."

"Yeah, I'm actually pretty impressed too," Dean said with sincerity, "Look, stay where you are, I'll come pick you up."

"No need," The Doctor objected, "Just give me the address."

Dean, against his better judgment, did so.

"The Doctor actually made it on time?" Castiel asked, a little surprised himself.

"Go figure," Dean answered as he put away his phone.

XXX

2002

Sam stared down at his phone late that night, his eyes glazed over. The phone itself had a number selected, though it hadn't been called.

The number was listed as 'Dad.'

He thought back to that night, back to their lives on the road, just back in general. He could just imagine how that phone call would go. 'How ya doin', boy?' 'Good, Sir, yourself?' 'Good except for the werewolf you shoulda been helping us hunt.'

He slammed his phone shut, returning his gaze to the window. He'd been studiously ignoring the angel that had been hovering on the church across the street. He ignored it even more now that he was sure it had moved.

He would have no part in it.


	4. Chapter 4

The church door opened gently as Professor River Song entered, her blaster aimed forward as she scanned around for the angel. She wasn't through for more than a second before The Doctor simply barged in, sonic out and waving it around with a flip of his arm.

River glared at him, "I really hate you sometimes. Here I am, trying to be cautious for once, and you just go barging in like you own the place."

"I do own the place," The Doctor muttered, "Founded it back in 1323, owned it since, not that I do anything with it, it's just here."

River stared at him then said, "I really hate you."

"No, you don't," The Doctor said, "River...it's upstairs."

"And what exactly do you plan to do when you find it," River demanded, "Assemble a cabinet at it?"

"No," The Doctor said, his face a study of seriousness, "I'm going to trap it and drop it into a dwarf star."

The matter-of-fact way The Doctor spoke sent a shock through her, but before she could demand more of him, he sprinted up the stairs, two at a time. Groaning, she went after him.

XXX

2009

Dean and Castiel looked up from their beers as a sound echoed out from over the hill. They watched curiously for a moment as a motorcycle crested the hill. They almost immediately went back to their beers but, to their surprise, the biker pulled up on the grass near the house, clearly looking straight at them.

He was wearing a set of jeans and boots, a blue leather jacket with a satchel tossed across his left shoulder, a scarf and a helmet with goggles. Dean and Castiel both stood up as he turned his bike off.

Dean whistled, "She's a beaut."

"Thank you," the Englishman said, taking off his helmet to reveal a brown-haired man with curled locks and a bit of a beard, "I drove this in the 1st Antigrav Olympics."

Dean and Castiel shared a look.

"So you're The Doctor," Castiel concluded, walking up to extend his hand, "It's an honor to meet you...well, to meet you for the first time...from...my-"

"Wibbly-wobbly, Cass," Dean mercifully stopped him as he walked up.

"Wibbly-wobbly," The Doctor frowned, "What kind of childish nonsense is that?"

Dean and Castiel shared a look, followed by Dean issuing a small chuckle.

"I might like you more than the skinny dude," Dean said, thrusting his fist forward, "Dean Winchester, we've met."

"Dean Winchester," The Doctor looked him in the eye, seemingly seeing through him and into his soul in an instant before he thrust his fist into his, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dean Winchester. I'm The Doctor."

"Good to meetcha," Dean intoned, "C'mon, let's get into the house."

Once inside, Dean and Castiel showed The Doctor to the room where Darla Gibbons had been found. He immediately set to work examining the room, reaching into his jacket pocket.

"So," he spoke while he scanned the area, "Tell me about yourselves."

"Really?" Dean asked, "You don't wanna do your...sonic thing?"

"Can't I do both?" The Doctor asked as he withdrew said 'sonic thing', "Come along, you know about me. Aren't I entitled to know a little bit about you?"

"Of course," Castiel agreed, "I'm Castiel, a, um, hunter who sometimes works with Dean and his brother Sam."

"Castiel?" The Doctor asked, focusing on the bed where she'd been found, "I thought it was Cass. And where's your brother, Dean?"

"Somewhere," Dean deadpanned, "Look, Doc, all you need to know is we're good guys and someone's helping a Weeping Angel take over people's bodies."

"Oh, come now," The Doctor looked up, "I ask a question about your brother, you evade. Now I simply must know."

"No, Doc," Dean said, "You told us, more than once, that we can't tell you anything about your future."

"Not details, but you can give me little hints," The Doctor smiled, "I do it all the time."

"Yeah, I know," Dean muttered, "Look, just focus on the stone woman, please?"

"Of course," The Doctor said, coming to his feet as he put his sonic away, "Quite right, Dean. We'll deal with your sibling issues in a moment, NOW," he continued on, ignoring Dean's rolling of his eyes, "There is a frightful amount of temporal energy in this room, indicating that something traveled through time to arrive here."

"A Wretch?" Castiel inquired.

"What's a Wretch?" The Doctor asked.

"He means an angel, a Weeping Angel," Dean clarified.

"Ah," The Doctor nodded, "Yes, but not as you mean. You see, an angel can travel through time and space, but at the cost of the energy that it feeds off of. No, this angel sent someone else through time and space to this location."

"The witch," Castiel concluded.

"Oh, please," The Doctor scoffed, "Witchcraft, really?"

"Call it whatever," Dean stopped him from going on one of his tirades on magic, "Look, someone used this," Dean handed the hex bag over, "To turn her into stone or an angel or whatever."

The Doctor opened the bag and stared down at its contents for a moment, seemingly rattled before taking out his screwdriver and running it over them.

"Ah," he smiled to himself, "Now I see, looks like witchcraft, isn't. You see, these items are a biological conversion matrix designed to-"

"Turn a human into an angel, yeah, I know," Dean interrupted, "How do we stop it?"

"I need to see her," The Doctor concluded, "Come, we'll take your car, and on the way you can tell me about Sam."

The Doctor cheerfully ignored Dean's frown as he walked out of the bedroom.

"I like him," Castiel commented, a small smile on his face.

"Dick," Dean muttered.

XXX

2002

The Doctor threw the door open, thrusting his screwdriver forward as he scanned the room.

"Oh," The Doctor sighed, setting it down, "Empty. Of course it's empty, they never just sit around and wait, it's always 'oh, let's hide and play spooky games just for the fun of it.'"

"Doctor, it's not empty," River informed him, scanning around on her machine, "Someone's here."

The Doctor lifted his screwdriver again, scanning the room with it. He let out a small smile.

"Gotcha," he pressed down on his screwdriver and the space in front of him shimmered and vibrated for a moment before fading to reveal a woman in a robe kneeling before the Weeping Angel.

"Stay where you are," The Doctor ordered, "River, keep the angel in sight at all times. Now...just who are you?"

The woman did not answer, nor did she look up. She was staring down at a rug with Enochian symbols on it, which also held a broken angel blade, a feather and several scrapings of stone. She was muttering something in Enochian, one of the few languages the TARDIS could not translate.

"Doctor," River called out, "Something's happening, there's a buildup of unidentifiable energy."

"It's magic," The Doctor answered, not taking his eyes off the woman, "We are in the presence of a witch, River."

"A witch," River said, a bit of a smile in her voice, "How exciting!"

"I know," The Doctor let loose a small smile as he started to walk around the witch and the angel, "That blade, I imagine it belongs to an angel, though how you were able to come by it bewilders me, I suppose the angel could have helped though, but why just take the blade? Why break it? Especially if you're after Sam, you could just grab him and zap him through time and space straight to Lucifer, but then, you'd still have to get his permission."

"Sam Winchester is meaningless," the woman intoned.

"At last! She speaks," The Doctor said, turning away from her to look around the room, "And Sam Freakin' Winchester is anything but meaningless, dear. Anyone who'd met him would know that."

"Sam Winchester is meaningless," the woman repeated.

"Doctor, the energy is increasing," River spoke, taking her eyes off the angel for a moment to read her equipment.

As soon as both The Doctor and River turned back, they both recoiled as they realized the angel had moved. Its visage had changed from its usual serene look into a fanged villain. It was reaching out towards the witch, very nearly touching her.

"Doctor, what's happening? What's it doing?" River demanded.

"Don't take your eyes off it, River," The Doctor instructed, kneeling down to be next to the woman, "Listen...I don't know what's happening, but the angel is trying to reach you, and if it does, it will either send you back in time or just kill you, either way...you need to trust me. And you need to get away, now," he reached out, "Take my hand."

"No, Doctor," the woman finally looked up, staring him directly in the face, revealing a twenty-year old girl with black hair.

"Oh," The Doctor frowned, "I know you. How do I know you?"

"Sam Winchester refuses," the woman spoke, "He always refuses. This must be rectified."

"...Oh, of course," The Doctor gained a pensive look, "I know who you are. I know who you are and who you serve," he started to get angry, "Darla Gibbons, servant of the Weeping Angels, who themselves serve the Morning Star, Lucifer," he leaned in, "I've met you before, Darla, and I know how this turns out."

He stood up and clapped his hands together, turning his gaze away from the bewildered and frightened Darla, and looked to River.

"Time to go," he said simply.

"Doctor?" River asked, confused by his actions.

"Oh, well, Ms. Gibbons has chosen her fate, we'll leave her to it," The Doctor stated, "Professor Song, would you care to join me for a cup of tea?"

River stared at him for a moment before shaking herself and smiling, "I would love to, Doctor."

The Doctor offered her his arm and she walked up to him and took it. They both took their eyes off the angel as they turned and walked out of the room.


	5. Chapter 5

2009

"So," The Doctor inquired, leaning back in his seat as he looked around the Impala, "Tell me, Dean, why've you had a falling out with your brother?"

"How'd you..." Dean took a breath, "Never mind. Doctor, mind your own business."

"You call me on my TARDIS phone," The Doctor stated, his voice going a little cold, "You are rude to me and insist I help you, the very least you could do is tell me a bit about yourself."

"Not a chance in Hell," Dean stated, "Look, Doc, forget the fact that I don't want to talk about my little brother, you haven't met us yet. You know nothing about us!"

"Nice try, Dean, but you're making my argument all the more sound," The Doctor argued, "I'm not asking about my future, I'm asking about _your past_."

Dean slammed on the breaks as hard as he could, sending both Castiel and The Doctor flying forward.

"I'm only gonna say this once," Dean muttered, staring straight at The Doctor with a deceptively calm voice, "I respect you, Doctor, but if you ask me about my brother again, I will break that Time Lord nose of yours. You read me?"

The Doctor stared back at him, his eyes slightly wider and his mouth a little open. Castiel looked between the two, distinctly uncomfortable with the tense situation. Finally, The Doctor simply nodded.

XXX

2002

River watched The Doctor as he sat down in a pew, settling in as though a great weight were weighing him down. He let out a long sigh and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a Jelly Baby for himself. He held one out to River, who took it a bit cautiously, as though it might bite her.

"Y'know, the first time I met Dean, I was very wary of him," The Doctor started speaking, "This was right after Sam had let Lucifer out, he was on edge, the world was ending...he was so angry, angry with himself, with his brother, even with me at the time. But even then, he trusted me, he had faith in me."

He let out a bitter laugh.

"They always do."

"Doctor," River interrupted, "Doctor, you mustn't blame yourself for Amy and Rory."

"Then whom shall I blame?" The Doctor inquired, "You, River? You're their daughter, you wouldn't even exist without them and their choices. But Amy and Rory left their world because of _me_."

"Doctor, you didn't cast them into 1938," River told him.

"No, the angel did," The Doctor agreed, "But who brought them there, who lead them, by the hand, into a world that I disguised as being marvelous, shining and glorious, when, in truth, it's a world of blood and pain, right down to the bone!"

The Doctor slammed his feet into the ground, sending a shock through River.

"It was me!" he screamed, "I do this, every time, I put myself and my needs above my friends! Well, no more!" he rose up, staring River in the face, "No more, River, no more dead companions, no more sacrifices, no more standing on a bed of bones!"

The Doctor stopped flat, seeming to cease to be for a moment. He was deathly still, so still that River actually started to worry about him.

"I missed something," The Doctor muttered, "Oh, blimey, I missed something!"

"What?! Doctor, what?!" River asked, stunned.

"We've got to go, now!" The Doctor screamed, sprinting up the steps towards the room the angel and Darla Gibbons had occupied.

The two entered the room, finding it, unexpectedly, empty.

The Doctor let out a growl, promptly turning and running back down the stairs.

"Doctor, what's happening?!" River demanded.

"Back when I first met Dean, oh, stupid Doctor," he shouted as he kept moving, running for the TARDIS which was parked outside, "Back then, the hex bag had a bone in it, a bone with unidentifiable properties!"

"Magic?" River asked.

"Demon blood," The Doctor answered, throwing the TARDIS doors open and sprinting for the console, "Sam's bone! The hex bag there didn't have the bone!"

"The angel! It's going after Sam!" River concluded.

"And it knows that I stop it," The Doctor muttered as he began flipping switches and pressing buttons, "Now it has no reason to keep him alive."

"Oh Lord," River whispered.

"River, I need you to pilot the TARDIS," The Doctor told her, running up the stairs, "Get us there the moment we left that room, cause that's when the angel would have appeared! Do it silently, we can't let the angel know we're there till the last second!"

"You've got a plan?" River asked, expertly taking over the controls.

"Bit of a plan," The Doctor told her, "It's fairly terrible, but, it's a plan!"

"So we're all doomed," River muttered as The Doctor ran further into the TARDIS, "Lovely."


	6. Chapter 6

2009

By the time they'd arrived at the coroner's office, Darla Gibbons had nearly fully de-petrified, with only her neck and head remaining as stone. This prospect was not comforting to any of them.

"Shit," Dean muttered, "Cass?"

"It's a Wretch," Castiel muttered, waving his hand over her body, "Ephialtes, if I'm not mistaken."

"A wretch?" The Doctor inquired, "Ephialtes? What the devil are you on about?"

"Cass is, um, psychic," Dean lied, "Look, Doc, you know more about these things than either of us. Can you...um, do your doctor thing, find out what's going on?"

The Doctor frowned a bit, "Do my doctor thing? Really, Dean, could you try to be a little politeness, maybe even a please?"

Dean let out a low groan but said, "Please, Mr. Wizard."

"There, was that so hard," The Doctor smiled back, drawing his sonic screwdriver out and scanning both Darla and the hex bag.

"This woman," Castiel said, "There's something wrong with her, Dean, but I can't make it out. The Wretch-"

"She's out of her time," The Doctor revealed, "Not too far, but far enough. The angel sent her through time, probably space, too."

"Why would the Wretch do that?" Castiel asked.

"Food, fun, take your pick," The Doctor said as he turned to the hex bag, "This metal...it's unlike anything I've ever seen."

"Yeah, we know what the metal is," Dean stopped him, "What we don't know is what the bone and blood are."

"Well, let's see," The Doctor picked up the metal with blood coated on it and dabbed it with his finger, bringing it up to his tongue to taste it.

"Ugh, that's nasty," Dean muttered, and even Castiel looked a little disgusted.

"It's female, filled with temporal radiation, a high iron content and...something else, something oily and...evil," The Doctor turned his gaze onto the woman and stared at her, "It's her blood."

"And the bone?" Dean asked, having already concluded it was her blood and bone.

"Not hers," The Doctor said immediately, "I could tell just by the smell. It's male, a strong bone, but...there's something odd about it as well, that same oily evil."

"I sensed it too," Castiel agreed, "I can't place it, though."

"Approximately 27 years old," The Doctor discerned, "Good health, some aches and pains, a few breaks, great nutrition."

"Sam," Dean concluded, a look of fear crossing his features, "It's Sam's bone."

Castiel looked him in the face, "Sam's bone, why Sam's bone?"

"Think about it," Dean said, "The possession, here and now! It's about Sam, Cass, she's been possessed so that the angel can get to Sam, then she'll take him over!"

"Dean, it doesn't work that way," Castiel argued, "You can't possess someone then hand their body over, it takes permission from the host."

"Not if you destroy the person inside," Dean replied, "Think about it, Cass, her blood was evil, like Sam's bone. She's one of Yellow Eyes' kids."

Castiel gained a look of comprehension, "She's loyal, and she's given her life to a Wretch so that that Wretch can find Sam and do this to him."

"She'll destroy him and say yes," Dean said, turning to look at her, finding that only her mouth up remained stone, "Cass, we need to stop her."

"Of course," Castiel muttered, shifting slightly to look at her and flicking his wrist to withdraw his sword.

"Wait, wait!" The Doctor finally rejoined the conversation, "I've been standing here, listening to the two of you, and I can't, I _won't_ allow this! All I know is that this somehow involves you lot, and your brother, specifically him saying yes to something. You, Castiel, you are not a psychic, you're something else, and you, Dean, are casually having him kill this woman who, for all you know, is perfectly innocent in all this!"

"She's not," Dean argued, "She's the witch and if she finds Sam and does this to him, possesses him, then...something terrible happens, something that can and will end the planet."

The Doctor looked into him again, staring at him for a very long moment before saying, "Perhaps. There's something about you, Dean, you and Castiel, but you especially. Time lines are converging on you, you are at the center of several fixed points, certain things which always need to happen, always. You're a time traveler as well, both of you, and you...it's like you're superimposed on reality, like you've been brought back from death, from the truest death and been forced back into life. It's very nearly like looking in a mirror."

Dean stared at him, aware of many of those things already. The Doctor had said very much the same thing before. And, while he personally thought The Doctor could be a douche, he had to admit that he was very much so the same, with the only difference being that The Doctor simply refused to kill and openly admonished him and Sam for carrying guns.

"Even so," The Doctor continued, "I simply cannot allow you to kill this woman."

XXX

2002

Sam suppressed a yawn as he continued to read, sipping on his coffee as he leaned back in his chair and set his feet up upon his desk. It was getting late and he supposed he should go to bed, but he couldn't. He was rereading his book, trying to keep his mind occupied and stop thinking about that angel, that Doctor and Professor.

It was dark in his room, with only a desk lamp to keep the night at bay. With him reading and trying to keep from thinking about things like angels and educators, he was too preoccupied to notice the shape that had silently entered his room.

It was only when a blinding flash of light burst from his lamp did he notice anything was wrong at all.

XXX

The TARDIS materialized in the hostel hallway, completely blocking access from one side. The Doctor popped out of it for a moment and looked around, taking a long sniff of the air.

"Oh," he said simply and sprinted back inside.

 _Vwrrooooop...Vwrrooooop..._

The TARDIS faded away in place for a moment before reappearing again, this time with the doors facing the other direction in the hallway.

"Sorry, dear, had to turn her around," The Doctor explained casually as he and River walked out of the blue box, with The Doctor holding a metallic disk in his hand, "Great job being silent, by the way."

"Oh, hush!" River snapped, "Doctor, I understand the sense in this plan, but we've never ever tried something like this before. We don't even know if it'll work."

"Nonsense!" The Doctor decreed, "We'll get rid of this angel, time will snap back in place, Sam will be just fine, then Robert's your uncle and off for tea!"

"Why do you even have-" River started to ask.

"I _am_ a doctor, River," The Doctor answered, "The fact that I keep anything in a localized time field to stabilize its cohesion should be of absolutely no surprise to you."

"But human blood, really?" River argued, "That's more than a little creepy."

"You can talk, Mrs. Robinson," The Doctor snipped.

"Oh, I hate you," River swore.

"No, you-" before he could finish, a bang issued from a room several doors up, causing the dialogue to cease as The Doctor and River sprinted for the door.

The Doctor went to work with his sonic, but found that it wasn't working.

"Dead locked!" he growled out, "The angel's not letting us in!"

"Move!" River commanded, withdrawing her laser pistol and fiddling with the settings.

"Coaxel energy, a meezon burst of 42 should do it," The Doctor supplied as he moved, "42, answer to everything!"

River took aim and blasted the doorway, one steady shot reducing the wooden door to atoms.

The two ran inside, finding the angel holding an unconscious Sam in its hands. His arm was already broken, with part of the bone protruding. It was holding Sam by the neck, clearly threatening to break it in two if they came closer.

"Oh, really, dear, you think I'm really gonna believe that you'll snap his neck," The Doctor cockily argued, putting away his sonic as he lifted up the blank metallic disk, "I know you won't, and you know you won't, you're just hoping I'll let you go and do your work, well, today is your lucky day, because, I'm willing to do exactly that! Put him down and go off on your business...just leave, no more killing, no more time jumps, none of it, and we're absolutely gravy."

They waited for a moment, watching the angel to see what it would do.

"Sam Winchester is irrelevant," Sam spoke in a shaky voice, "I could kill him and another will take his place."

"I'm addressing the angel now, I take it," The Doctor replied, "Sorry, dear, but you and I know that's utter tommyrot. Last chance."

"Sam Winchester is irrelevant," the angel spoke again.

"Then why all the effort," The Doctor demanded, "Why send her back in time? Why go through all the trouble of making her ready for possession so you could possess Sam?"

"Not to possess Sam Winchester," the angel spoke, "To _become_ Sam Winchester."

The Doctor's mouth dropped as the thought struck him, the very idea came to his mind.

"Of course," he muttered, "A clone of Sam isn't enough, you can't just clone him and expect to keep all of what made Sam such a perfect vessel for Lucifer! The demon blood, the addiction and the infection, the strength of being brought up a warrior, no, a clone won't have all that, not really! But an angel, an angel can become a clone of Sam, using all those components!"

"Doctor, what are you saying?" River demanded, never once taking her eyes off the angel.

"The angel is creating a Sam Winchester body!" The Doctor explained, "It's going to take over Darla Gibbons and then get to Sam, grab his DNA from the correct time and whew! Instant biological duplicate, ready, willing and able to say yes to Lucifer! Oh, yowza! All the power of a Weeping Angel and the biological necessities of Sam Winchester, more than enough to contain the Morning Star!"

"Sam Winchester _is_ irrelevant," the angel said once again through Sam.

"Like Hell he is!" The Doctor disagreed, "Listen to me, you useless block of stone, I'm The Doctor, I'm eleven-hundred years old, I'm a Time Lord of Gallifrey, I have seen the end and the beginning of this universe and I can guarantee you this: Sam Winchester is NOT irrelevant! D'you know why?"

He flipped the disk, revealing an Enochian symbol drawn in human blood.

"Because he taught me this," he let loose a dark smile, "Geronimo!"

The Doctor touched the disk, causing a bright light to escape it. The angel seemed to warp for a moment, fading in and out of reality before finally being cast backward.


	7. Chapter 7

2009

"Oh, I have been wanting to say this for a long time," Dean muttered, taking a fleeting look at the woman to make sure he had enough time before she was fully flesh, "Doctor, you are a brilliant, brave and utterly amazing son of a bitch, but you are wrong! Killing this woman is exactly the right thing to do, and one day, one day you will know why, but for now, you're simply going to have to trust me! And yes, Doc, I know for a fact that you don't, and yes, I know you don't like me, but I'm going to show you one thing, and one thing only that will make you believe that I'm someone you can trust."

The Doctor stared at him for a moment even as Dean unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, much like a scientist examining a rare specimen, and stated simply, coldly "You are a murderous thug and a liar. Why should I trust you?"

Dean said nothing, merely lowered his shirt. The Doctor recoiled as if he was struck, unable to remove his eyes from the markings on his chest. On one side was an ink marking of a pentagram encircled by flame, while the other was a similar marking but was an intricate binding of circles wrapped together to spell out a word in ancient Gallifreyan that The Doctor could read with ease.

"...Why?" The Doctor inquired, barely mustering enough strength to be heard.

"Because in your future," Dean answered, "I am someone that you trust and, more importantly, we put our lives on the line for each other, time and time again. And when the shit finally hits the fan, that's when all this matters, because you, Doc, are a pompous douche but you're family, same as this raincoat wearing nerd behind me and as that wheelchair bound drunk back in South Dakota! So sack up and take a leap, Doc, or there's the devil to pay!"

The Doctor stared at him, simply unable to say anything in the face of such genuine emotion. It was a rare thing in his life, to be so utterly lost and, yet, he knew in his heart that Dean was telling the truth.

"I'm not a nerd," Castiel complained.

"Shut up," Dean countered.

The Doctor issued a chuckle, unable to stop himself.

"To days to come," he whispered, "Very well."

Castiel wordlessly withdrew his sword and stabbed Darla in the heart. A bright light emitted from the woman; none of the men looked away, forcing themselves to see the act. The Doctor took a deep breath once it was over and closed his eyes, lowering his head as if in prayer.

In many ways, he was...

XXX

2002

Sam collapsed into a heap at the foot of the bed, drawing both The Doctor and River. The Doctor scanned Sam with his screwdriver, focusing on his head and arm.

He flipped it up, letting the prongs loose, "Mild concussion, full breakage of the ulna. A few months in a splint and some bed rest and he'll be fine."

"Doctor," River started, "What now?"

"Nothing," The Doctor answered, rising to his feet with a pat of Sam's shoulder, "See you around, Sam Winchester."

"We're just going to leave him here?" River demanded, completely flummoxed.

"Of course," The Doctor muttered, turning away, "The angel is gone, Sam will be fine, off we pop."

River stared at him in complete shock for a long moment before sighing and turning away from him, sitting down on Sam's bed and staring directly at him with a look of disapproval.

"What?" The Doctor extended his arms in confusion.

"What? Really?" River demanded, "That's all you can say for yourself? What?!"

"Yes, what?" The Doctor asked again, sighing in resignation.

"Sam Winchester is our friend!" River raged, coming to her feet, "He was with us at Stonehenge, he and Dean fought at Demon's Run to rescue Amy, he gave his life for the Earth and-"

"And he did all those things and he will do all those things," The Doctor spoke to her as if she were a particularly stupid child, "But for now, to him, we're nothing but a creepy doctor and professor hunting angels. Right now, he needs to be alone, he wants to be alone, and if that means a broken arm, so be it."

"But you could help him!" River growled.

"Then why don't you," The Doctor inquired, "Why must it always be me?"

River looked at him as though he had lost his mind, "Because you are The Doctor!"

The Doctor scoffed, turning away from her and stalking back to the door.

"Coming?" he asked, as though he barely cared.

"Don't do this, Doctor," River pleaded, moving closer to him but not far from Sam, "Don't shut me out!"

The Doctor stared at her for a moment, his mouth open partly, as though something lay on the tip of his tongue. Silently, he steeled himself and shut his mouth completely, not even whispering goodbye as he turned and walked away.

River mourned for him, "Oh, sweetie. How lost you must be."

She turned to look at Sam, knowing full well that one day he would have that same look on his face.

XXX

2009

Dean, Castiel and The Doctor rode back to the TARDIS in silence. Dean was lost in his own thoughts with regards to Sam and Lucifer and how the war between Heaven and Hell was destroying the world. He thought fleetingly about the prospect of saying 'yes' to Michael, but he simply refused. He would not give in, not once, not an inch, and he would go down swinging.

The Doctor, meanwhile, thought back to an event in his Fourth life, a day when he had had a chance to stop the Daleks. Then, he had genuinely had an opportunity to stop a great evil from ever rising, but instead he had let it come to pass, simply because he did not believe he had the right to commit genocide. Oh, certainly, he had come back later to correct that decision, but by then, his actions could only delay the rising of his most hated enemies. Seeing Dean there with a great weight on his shoulders made him wonder if he had just faced a similar moment and had taken the other course.

Castiel, however, was sitting awkwardly in the front seat, simply torn between saying something to end the silence or just...sitting and staring.

In the end, he decided to try and strike a conversation.

"Doctor," he started, shaking the two out of their thoughts, "Would you let us see your TARDIS?"

Dean looked over at Castiel and asked, "We've already seen the TARDIS."

"One version of it," Castiel stated, "New Doctor, new TARDIS."

"Except that's not how it was, it was always the same," Dean replied.

"In my future," The Doctor concluded, "As it is, yes, Cass, you are welcome to see my TARDIS. She's a grand ol' thing, gentlemen."

"That she is," Dean readily agreed.

"Dean," The Doctor began, "I realize perfectly well that you can break my jaw or nose or whatever other body part you'd like, but I'd like to ask you about your brother."

"Doc, no," Dean said, "Just no."

"Just tell me this," The Doctor said, "When was the first time you saved him?"

Dean looked back at The Doctor in something akin to shock.

"It was easy to work out," The Doctor answered the silent question, "Now, when was the first time you saved him?"

"...I was four," Dean answered, not quite sure why he was, "There was a fire. My Dad called me over, told me to get Sam outside as fast as I could."

"And you did," The Doctor concluded, "And you've saved him many times since, the latest having occurred today. A proper hero."

"I ain't a hero," Dean answered, "I'm just a murderous thug tryina kill even worse things."

"I apologize," The Doctor said immediately.

"No worries," Dean waved him off, "You've said worse."

"You have," Castiel agreed, "And, incidentally, here we are."

"Ah, there she is," The Doctor smiled as Dean pulled up alongside the TARDIS, "Hello, darling."

The blue police box (circa 1963) sat at a random corner off Main Street, looking for all the world like some random blue box. Inside, however, lay the universe.

"I can't wait to see this," Dean said as they got out of the car, "Hope it's not that grunge crap."

"Dean," Castiel said a bit sharply.

"I know, I know, no spoilers," Dean replied.

"You two argue like an old married couple," The Doctor smiled as he pulled out his keys, only to pause and turn to look at them, "Are you married?"

"What?! No!" Dean argued, more than a little off-put by The Doctor's remarks.

"Do we seem...married?" Castiel asked, a little curious.

"Shut up!" Dean shushed him, "No more married crap, we are _not_ married!"

"Thou doth protest too much, methinks," The Doctor singsonged, thoroughly enjoying making Dean uncomfortable.

"Oh, God, you never ever change," Dean whined, "Open the damn box already!"

"Very well, then," The Doctor smiled, "Come take a look."

The Doctor pushed the doors open, standing aside to allow them through first. Dean and Castiel went through, feeling the same rush of vertigo that they always felt when first going through the TARDIS, though they easily adjusted. Unlike the one they had previously been through, this one had a different series of doors. Instead of simple police box doors, this one had double doors made of stone. The console room was strikingly different than they were used to, instead of a grunge metallic look, this one was more of a Victorian room, plenty of couches and chairs, bookshelves lining the room and the console itself a little off-center of the room. The console, like the other one, went up to the ceiling and had a bronze steampunk look to it, with a series of tools and a toolbox lined around it. The entire room was darkly lit, as several dozen candles lit the room, making for a flickering hue that made the room appear to jump erratically.

The Doctor smiled and gave his console an affectionate pat, moving over to his chair and withdrawing his screwdriver to heat his tea up again.

"I have to admit," Castiel said as The Doctor sat down, "I do prefer this look over the other. It's homely."

"Definitely not as weird," Dean agreed, sitting down in one of the chairs and popping his feet up on a table.

The Doctor coughed loudly, drawing Dean's attention, and looked pointedly at his feet. Dean nodded and put his feet down. Castiel shook his head lightly and idly kicked an ottoman over to him, taking a seat himself and getting comfortable.

"Don't you ever take that coat off?" The Doctor inquired.

"I like it," Castiel stated, a little defensively.

"Yeah, you would," Dean teased lightly, "So, Doc, got any grub in this dump?"

"I'll thank you not to speak of my TARDIS in such a manner," The Doctor replied, "But, I do have a kitchen."

"Are you traveling alone?" Castiel asked.

The Doctor became a bit uncomfortable at that, but answered, "For now, yes. Lucie was traveling with me, but...events occurred."

"Shit happens," Dean agreed.

"Is that why you're no longer traveling with Sam? Shit happened?" The Doctor inquired.

Dean sighed, sitting back in his chair silently for a moment before, finally, he said, "Sam chose to go with someone evil, Doc. Truly evil, and because of that, the world is about to end."

"Sam was convinced he was right," Castiel interrupted, sticking up for him in his absence.

"So?" Dean countered, "Last I checked, the road to Heaven ain't paved with good intentions."

"Quite right," The Doctor agreed, releasing a world weary sigh.

The three settled into a companionable silence for a moment, one broken when The Doctor suddenly stood up and clapped his hands together, drawing the others' attentions.

"Gentlemen," he announced, "It's time I was off. If, however, you would like to accompany me on a trip, I'd be delighted!"

"No thanks, Doc," Dean stated, climbing to his feet, "I've got work I need to do here."

"Of course," The Doctor smiled, extending his hand, "Dean Winchester, it's been...quite the experience."

"As always, Doc," Dean enthusiastically shook his hand, "You take care."

"Always," The Doctor lied genially, "And, Dean, Kansas City is quite beautiful this time of year."

Dean gave The Doctor a strange look and turned away from him, not quite sure how to take that.

"Castiel," The Doctor clapped hands with the angel, "It's been a pleasure."

Castiel seemed hesitant for a moment, as though he wanted to say something.

"Cass?" Dean asked, wondering if his friend was ok.

Castiel sighed and said, "Dean...my hunt hasn't been going well."

"Go," Dean said immediately, "Just get back to around this time, ok?"

"You're sure?" Castiel asked.

"Yeah, you're run ragged, man," Dean stated, "Everyone needs a break, now and again. Lemme get my necklace back, though."

"Of course," Castiel said, withdrawing it from his coat and handing it over to Dean.

"That necklace is special?" The Doctor inquired.

"Christmas gift," Dean said, staring down at it for a moment before putting it back on.

"Doctor," Castiel spoke, "May I accompany you?"

"Cass, Cass, Cass," The Doctor smiled, "Where to?"

"Another world," Castiel smiled slightly, "Somewhere far from here."

"Very good," The Doctor said, leaping towards the console, "Dean, we'll see you later!"

"Goodbye, Dean," Castiel said.

"Later, man," Dean waved goodbye as he walked through the double-doors and back out to the street.

Dean leaned on his car for a moment, watching as the TARDIS began to make that groaning, wheezing noise that announced its imminent departure. He hoped Cass would be alright.

He had to admit, he was tempted to run away with The Doctor again, but the last time they had done so had turned out much worse than they'd thought possible. In the end, Dean had learned very well from his time with The Doctor that, no matter how far or how fast you run, you can't outrun your past.

That was why he said no to The Doctor, and why he would continue to say no to Michael. If he was going to go down, then he would go down fighting, not running.

Dean sighed, breaking himself from his musing, and sat down in the driver's side of his car. He cranked it up and turned on the radio, letting Metallica's _Enter Sandman_ take him away.

After calling Bobby and downloading to him, Dean decided to take The Doctor's advice and make for Kansas City, if only because he had nowhere better to go.


End file.
